


it was always meant to be

by ColorblindCity



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Post - Prince Caspian, Post - Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Slow Burn, completely movie based
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1773232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorblindCity/pseuds/ColorblindCity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aslan said they could never come back, however, Aslan never said they wouldn't see each other again. </p><p>Caspian gets a second chance he could've never imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. to forget or not to forget?

**Author's Note:**

> This is super old, but it has always been one of my favorites so i'm cross-posting it from ff.net

 

 

Contrary to what the kingdom might've thought, their first kiss took place in the palace gardens.

A celebration ball was being held for the brave soldiers who had fought side-by-side with the Kings and Queens of Old to reunite Narnia and Telmar, and soon-to-be-King Prince Caspian was obviously the host. But around midnight he retired from the noisy ballroom, unheard and unseen, and made his merry way to the only part of the castle that didn't remind him of Miraz, the courtyard.

He could hear her light footsteps trailing behind him, but he decided to pretend he was unaware of her presence. The garden was a bit of a labyrinth, but Caspian knew every little corner and every hiding place. He toyed with her for a long time, walking calmly by the trees she was hiding behind of, or stopping all of a sudden so she would almost bump into him. He was almost sure she knew by now that she wasn't fooling him, yet her gasp of surprise seemed very authentic as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, having taken a short cut and stomped over a few flowers to turn the tables.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, my queen, but I could see you were running out of places to hide" he whispered in his thick accent, his breath tickling her ear and sending a rush of blood to her face. She was glad for the darkness.

"We've fought together in a war, I think you've earned your right to call me Susan" she answered, turning in his arms so she was facing him.

Now, Caspian wasn't expecting this sort of proximity, and it threw him off when she laid her hands and head on his chest, bringing herself closer. He swallowed and tried to push away some very strange thoughts that were assaulting him. He would've never thought all of this could happen to him. He never thought that all this magic – without which he wouldn't have won this war- even existed.

But magic was real. The rose petals flowed and swirled in the wind, forming shapes, conscious of their own existence and purpose, the trees danced while rooted to their spots and the salty ocean breeze carried the music of the tides. This world, this garden, was alive, and he only believed otherworldly magic was responsible until his eyes had landed upon her own otherworldliness.

Because such a wondrous creature as herself could not be a work of this land. She was the magic, she was beginning and end, she was the inspiration for all beautiful things, yet all beautiful things paled in comparison to her.

And here she was, in his arms. He wanted to ask her what this meant but he feared he would embarrass her, which would most certainly send her away.

"There's something I wanted to ask you." Her voice was so small he had trouble understanding the words. "More of a request, actually" she added when he didn't answer.

He could feel her heart beating faster, and she hid her face further into his shoulder, muttering something he didn't understand at all. He asked her to say it again, and she pushed away a little, trying to look him in the eye and convey her message. He tilted his head to the side in curiousity; she blushed furiously but held his gaze. It was then that she kissed him. But it turned out, she wanted more than a kiss.

Caspian wasn't sure what to think, or whether he was entitled to accept such a request. His mind debated on several reasons why he shouldn't, but he agreed on one condition.

"Marry me"

The whole garden fell silent, not even the nighttime insects dared make a sound. Her hands were splayed over his chest, their faces a few inches apart and his profound eyes bore into hers with so much intensity she thought she might forget how to breathe any given moment. Truth, it wasn't the first time she'd been asked that question, however it was the first time she had ever wanted to say yes. There was something in the way he said it, so firmly, so definitive. It wasn't a request, it was an order, and at the same time it was also a plea.

His hand was rough in the vase of her neck, possessive. Some part of her acknowledged that this should remind her of a not so pleasant situation with a not so pleasant prince, but she found that she liked this possessiveness coming from Caspian. She didn't know anymore whether she was a possession or not, all she knew was that she wanted to be his.

So she nodded weakly, distrusting her voice, and a small smile came to her lips as she tried to close the gap between them. He met her halfway and kissed her senseless, not knowing what else to do to express his relief.

The moon and the trees were the only witnesses as he led her into the castle and towards his bedchamber.

 

. . . . . . .

 

She stared at him through rainy eyes, standing beside the master who had captured her perfection in a land he was moments away from becoming king of. It downed on Caspian, as his eyes slipped from hers to the lion's, that the decision was not his to make.

It was with a heavy heart and a stomach wrenching feeling of uncertainty that he stared back at her, thinking that perhaps the time had come for him to start memorizing her face. Not that it wasn't already burned in the inside of his eyelids, but he figured he could not rely on his memory to properly admire her.

What could he have said to stop her? How could he have known?

He was just a young troubled prince trying to regain his rightful throne. He had more pressing matters than to figure out what that gleam in her eyes meant. Everything would've been alright. He could've lived the rest of his days with only the sweet reminiscences of shy glances and stolen brushes, the soft thumping inside his chest when he thought of her, the sleepless nights and the unspoken agreements.

Everything would've been nothing. Her memory, the foolish passion of the first love.

He could've endured, on that last day, the tremor of her lips, her furrowed brow, the last notes of her ever-melodic voice...

But why did she have to kiss him? Why had she agreed to become his wife if she was leaving? Was she aware of the spell she was casting over him? Was she aware of much more difficult she had made this?

He watched lifelessly as she walked away, his heart hidden somewhere within her graceful soul, it must have clung onto her when they embraced, for he couldn't feel it inside his own chest anymore.

Through his sorrow, he managed to reach out, weakly, towards the place she had disappeared to. His hand grasped air, and the whole kingdom fell quiet.

 

. . . . . . .

 

She felt herself disappear in his embrace, she was, after all, so very small in comparison, and it was delicious.

She got to lose herself in another world, he was her world, and it was a world no one but her could enter. She was safe and not Aslan nor any magic could make them part. She was fit for his arms, and for that moment, she pretended she was invisible and that no one knew where she was hiding. And it was a wondrous moment, the most perfect one she would ever be able to recall.

But even if she was hidden from the view of her siblings, her subjects and Aslan himself, they had all seen her disappear inside Caspian's arms, and everyone knew just where to look for her.

She decided then, as she reluctantly pulled herself away from him, that she was going to give them a distraction, a poor excuse of the Susan they wanted to take with them.

The absence of his warmth made a cold shudder run right through her, and even if only poetically, even if it was just her aching heart searching for a resolution, the shudder separated her soul from her body.

She crossed the portal without so much as a glance backwards. She stayed hidden in his arms, and her numb body fooled everyone.

Now they would never find her, for they thought they saw her coming out of her shelter.

If only he knew that the figure walking away wasn't really her, if only he knew she was still there, in his arms, with him.

 

. . . . . . .

 

They found that they could, somehow, see the other in the mirror, in their own reflections, for they had adopted many of each other's expressions. He sees her smile in his own, she sees him in the way she tilts her head to the side, he sees her when he runs a hand through his hair and she sees him in the way she narrows her eyes when she's pensive.

For Susan, this meant having a mirror in every single room of the house, for Caspian, it meant having all the mirrors in the castle thrown away.

It gave her solace when she found him in her smile, and at first, she would run to the nearest mirror. But as time passed, she learned to feel rather than to see, and when she smiled, she closed her eyes and felt him, his arms around her and his lips on her bare shoulder. It was like the soul she left behind was sending her a magic letter, telling her that everything was in order and that her plan had worked, they we're so happy together, no one had figured out their secret, and no one was going to break them apart.

It haunted him, when he found her in his own frown, and when he first realized it, anger started building up inside him, and as it was bound to keep happening, he cursed her each and every single time. The vacant spot in his chest throbbed; she hadn't had the delicacy to stitch up the wound after she stole his heart. So he cursed her, resolute that nothing could ever bring them together.

At night, Susan would wrap herself in her quilt tightly, so tightly and she would evoke his scent from her memory. It was then that she could fool herself into thinking that he was with her. Caspian on the other hand, could not stand the sight of his room, nor could he stand breathing in her sweet scent, which had stained not only his bed sheets but the entire room. He couldn't stand laying down in the bed they had shared only one damn night, he couldn't stand fooling himself into thinking that she was with him.

Susan thought Caspian had it easy, having so many things to prove him that she was real, that she had been there, and that she was forever his.

And Caspian thought Susan had it easy, having nothing to remind her of the ill-fated love they shared, nothing to remind her of the broken king she had left behind.

 

. . . . . . .

 

For many years after her departure, he cursed her name.

For Caspian many nights were spent in silence, tossing and turning restlessly in his new bed, in his new fit-for-a-king chamber, trying to ignore the ever present pang of melancholy. The bags under his eyes became a part of his signature appearance.

Cair Paravel was abandoned, the books about the Golden Age were hidden from the world. The High King's sword, as well as the gentle Queen's horn, had been locked up and left to become a myth inside the king's old bedroom, the one he habited when he was still a prince, the one that held a secret so intimate he feared people might guess it from just feeling the atmosphere inside it. Said room had been forbidden to ever be reopened, for the king's heart was to root away there, along with the memories of his youth.

At first, the young king took long walks up and down the corridor, staring doubtfully at the oak door and biting his lips before running off. As time passed, whenever he had to walk by that door, he would raise his head regally and speed up, trying a little too hard not to look at it.

The narnians were treated as well as had been promised, but one thing had been forbidden. They were never to mention the Kings and Queens of Old in their king's presence.

And while Caspian found it impossible to even voice her name, Susan found it impossible not to talk about him every second of the day.

 

. . . . . . .

 

Seeing as she was the logical one, it worried them to see her so -dare they say it?- hopeful.

Anyone would've thought Susan was taking it all very well, had anyone known there was something she needed to deal with. But for them, who had lived with her several decades more than their looks let on, she was most definitely going insane, and they were scared.

Scared of her wistful smiles, scared of the way she held onto her pillow at night while whispering his name in her sleep, scared of her general contentment. She had not once shed a single tear, nor had she moped around the house, nor had she had a mad fit of yelling at them. She was happy, truly happy, bringing him up ever time she could, like they had spent a lifetime together and she had a fair amount of good memories with him.

And sometimes, all of the sudden, when they were having dinner or just chatting peacefully, she would blush madly and lower her head to hide a beaming smile. They would ask, and she'd brush it off as nothing, but they soon learned to recognize the gleam in her eyes when her thoughts were of him. And they could only wonder just what she was thinking that was not to be shared with them.

They expected, almost hoped, for a melt-down... and they wanted it soon. They knew not how much of that nervous, supposed-to-be-happy Susan they could take.

They worried too, though not as intensely, for Caspian. As they were saying goodbye, the contrast was almost painful. In her face, a smile, in his, a frown. She was sort of glowing in a way, maybe from the newfound sense of belonging, and he was positively being drained from every ounce of life in his body. It was like she had absorbed all his energy. Lucy and Edmund couldn't wait to go back and see how he was doing.

 

. . . . . . .

 

When they asked whether he'd find a queen in the time they were gone, he felt a little bolt run through his body, and before he could give himself the time to be sulkily miserable about it, he answered "Not one to compare with your sister" in a bright enough voice, deciding to roll with the happiness their presence brought him, like a dolphin would use a wave to propel itself closer to its destination.

If he couldn't avoid bringing her up, he could at least overlook the reaction it caused in him, thereby keeping the illusion that everything was working out perfectly. He owed Edmund and Lucy this much, had it not been for them, he probably wouldn't even be alive, be it because the narnians killed him before giving him a chance, or because he was defeated by Miraz's army.

No. Lucy and Edmund deserved better than to see the man they had trusted their kingdom with falling apart over a woman. Over their sister, to whom they would surely tell everything that had transpired during their adventure. He couldn't have Susan know the effect she was having on him, being the selfless, caring person he'd grown to adore so much, she would blame herself, she would think twice before ever looking at a man, she would feel like she was betraying him.

He couldn't do that to her, and yet he wanted to. He wanted to know he wasn't the only one having a hard time.

He wanted so badly to hate her.

He was selfish, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. His love for her was growing cold, bitter, and he knew that with every sleepless night he spent mulling over the pain she was causing him, he only threw another pebble at the pile of resentment that was gathering in his heart. His days were becoming heavier to carry on with, due to the weight overload in his chest.

This sick necessity to turn all his love for her into hatred needed to stop. Maybe that was partially the reason Edmund and Lucy were sent back, to remind him that he had to be grateful, to make him see that he had to let go.

 

. . . . . . .

 

When he laid eyes on Liliandil, he felt a familiar pang in his chest. She was breath-taking, almost as much as Susan had been. He felt drawn in by her light, but then again, any man not to relish on her beauty had to be out of his mind. She pointed their destination, and just as she was about to take her leave, Caspian felt the need to know whether this was another permanent goodbye.

Knowing what awaited him, should he survive this adventure and return to his kingdom, he desperately hoped to meet with her again. He would have to find a queen someday, no matter how much he tried to put it off, and if he had to spend the rest of his life with a woman, it might as well be someone so pleasant to the sight.

 

. . . . . . .

 

As he walked towards the giant wave he thought that maybe, just maybe,  _she_  was awaiting him in Aslan's country too.

Yes, he could almost picture her beautiful face smiling at him, her hair blowing in the wind, and for a moment, he could've sworn that the water took the form of her hand, beckoning him. He reached out, his gaze intent on her bright blue eyes. But his hand went right through the water. There was nothing there, the blue wasn't that of her eyes but that of the water itself.

Slowly, almost painfully, he drew his hand away and turned his back on the illusion. There was nothing there. She wasn't there. Maybe his father was, but what did that matter? How would he explain his choice? If Susan had been there, he knew his father would understand that he wanted her so much more than a kingdom. His father would understand and respect him for following his heart.

But she wasn't there.

Feeling the moisture gather in his eyes, he looked up into the faces of those who had been granted with the gift of her presence.

She wasn't to be his, not ever. As he wasn't to have a father again. He couldn't keep blaming Aslan for putting his greatest desires in front of him only to rip them away. He was bringing this on himself, wanting what he could never have.

Life is about adaptation. Not everything can be solved through magic. He'd have to keep enduring the loss of all the things he loved, as long as he had things to love. All he needed to do was let go. Let go of things that did not belong to him anymore. If he didn't hold them close to his heart, it wouldn't hurt to have them taken away.

"It's been too long wanting what was taken from me and not what was given," he gulped, avoiding the eyes of those about to be taken from him. "I was given a kingdom, people..." he decided it was better to start living by that conviction right then. He turned to Aslan, and staring past him at the land he had to reign, said: "I promise to be a better king," and he meant it with every ounce of his heart.

Aslan remained quite expressionless. "You already are" he said, but he didn't seem to approve of the look on Caspian's face.

Caspian feared what was going through the lion's mind, and was suddenly glad that, after the King and Queen of Old and their cousin were gone, he wouldn't have to stand beside Aslan by himself, for he, at least, would have Repicheep by his side. Except Repicheep wasn't to stay either, and this much he should've learned by now, for it seamed every time a great adventure came his way, his closest friends had to follow their own destiny. And all the while he was tied down to a kingdom.

Aslan roared. Caspian's stomach roared along. This was it.

He held them close, confessed the real depth of his feelings for them, though he didn't doubt they already knew. They were so much wiser, he often forget they were, indeed, so much older than him.

Lucy... valiant Lucy who had grown so much, who was looking so much like her. He held her even tighter, whispering into her hair some nonsense about her never losing her courageous heart. Of course she wouldn't. People like her were granted the faith and strength to stay true to their hearts, to always believe. She would always be little Lucy, the Valiant Queen of Narnia. Those tears in her face would vanish, and she would live her life to the very fullest, without ever letting go of her memories.

It wasn't nice, not at all, having to see them go, having his heart shatter yet again.

He couldn't help, as had happened the first time, reaching out towards them as they crossed the portal. Wanting what was taken, it seemed to be his destiny.

But he had made a promise, and he intended to keep it. He was going to go back to his kingdom, the one that had coasted him the lives of his friends, the one that was given to him by the only family he ever knew. He was going to honour them and their absence. He was going to be a better king.

The portal in the wave closed. Caspian took an involuntary step forward, as his whole body had been leaning towards it.

"Rest assured, young king, you will see them again" Aslan spoke tranquilly.

"Pardon me, your highness, if I can't allow myself to believe you," he answered tightly, his throat still constricted by a knot.

"Whether to believe or not is entirely your choice, and I shall respect it. Good luck, Caspian, a long journey still lies ahead of you."

 

 


	2. peace and grief are made of the same flesh

 

 

 

Sooner than he expected, yet long past seeing enough calamity for a lifetime, their mission was done and they were heading home. The sky cleared, the ferocious waves died down, the fog dissipated, the water was sweet again, the smell of lilies overwhelmed their senses and all was well in the world. ****

The moon looked so round, so big in the starless sky, it was almost within his reach. So close yet so far, and no matter how much he wanted it all for himself, it was needed up there, to make the night a bit more bearable. The night sky couldn't be moonless just as the day sky couldn't be sunless. She was needed in that foreign land they called England, and he was needed in Narnia.

The moon can't leave her stars and stay with the sun, the sun can't leave his clouds and follow the moon. They came from different worlds, of course it wasn't meant to be.

And since he couldn't have his moon, he would have to content himself with a star.

Lilliandil was so beautiful, so gentle, so radiant... literally. Almost enough to make up for  _her._ Caspian brought her back to Narnia and married her, and not long after, she gave him the heir his council had insisted so much upon. They named him Rillian, thinking it inappropriate to continue the tradition of kings named Caspian.

Caspian cared enough for her to think about her happiness, and so he ordered for the tallest tower of the palace to be turned into a nursery. Lilliandil, being a star, enjoyed being the closest possible to her previous home, the sky. She spent hours on the balcony, little Rillian nestled in her arms, telling him stories of her time up there, and of the things she had witnessed throughout the centuries from her privileged place.

Caspian always imagined himself having a large family, as he had been an only and very lonely child, but after giving her her own tower, Lilliandil detracted herself, immersed in her son. She and Caspian barely ever saw each other, and when they did cross the other's path, they had nothing but amicable words and gentle gestures, sometimes they even laughed together. They never argued, never had anything to reproach each other.

Sometimes, Caspian wished he could miss her enough to go fetch her from her tower and spend sometime with her, maybe talking, maybe in silence, at least he wouldn't be left to his own devices. But as it was, he was the busiest man in the kingdom, and his duties where usually enough to keep him distracted.

Late at night, though, alone in his chambers and staring at the ceiling, his mind wanders off to many places, and no matter how much he tries to go the other way, it keeps going back to her soft curls, her sweet lips against his own. At least when Lilliandil was around he could forget.

Lilliandil knew that Caspian didn't love her, not in a husband and wife manner anyway, but she didn't mind. She had her little Rillian, her golden treasure, and she couldn't ask for more. He was her every thought and word, he was the most wonderful thing in the world, and just because of him, she never regretted marrying a man that was anything but a husband to her.

Caspian too loved his son deeply. He relished in the times he could sneak away from his kingly duties and teach him how to handle a sword, or taking him horseback riding to the furthest places of the kingdom. It was in times like these that Lilliandil took her real form and followed them in the sky, she was always worried for her son. Caspian had found this slightly annoying, the fact that she couldn't trust him to take care of their son, and that was by far the only complaint he ever had about her.

Not that he ever voiced it, of course.

Rillian grew into a brave young prince, and Caspian couldn't be prouder. He cared for the kingdom, for the people. He was an excellent swordsman – not nearly as good as the Just King had been, but he would've been had Edmund been there to train him himself. He was polite to his elders, even the ones in lower ranks, he was grateful for the things he was given and he was undyingly loyal to his friends.

He would be such a great king, so much better than himself, Caspian always thought.

 

. . . . . . .

 

 

"His hair is longer," Lucy said amusedly. "And he usually pulls it up in a half ponytail."

Peter snickered. "How manly," he muttered under his breath

"He now has a very thick and kingly beard too, you know?" Edmund intervened, shooting Peter and his hair-free face a mocking smirk. Peter glared, huffed, then crossed his arms and leaned back on his seat.

"And he doesn't have an accent anymore."

"What?" It was the first time Susan had spoken. Lucy and Edmund were nervous, they were used to Susan being very open to talk about Narnia, but they didn't think she could handle it when she was told of events she wasn't present at. They hoped, with a very heavy heart, that this would bring her fantasy barricade down, and that she would finally allow herself to cry at least a little.

"He must've picked up on the narnians' accent," Lucy answered, shrugging. Susan's face fell a little. The Caspian she knew, her Caspian, was clearly changing.

"And he's certainly happier." Edmund added, turning to give Lucy a meaningful look. They wordlessly dwelt on whether to mention a certain person or not. Lucy bit her lips, lowering her gaze for a moment. Susan would ask eventually, when she was ready to hear it.

"Of course he's happy. From what you've been saying, everything seems to be falling into place for him," Peter said, somewhat bitterly.

"I think they mean something else," Susan whispered, drawing all eyes to her. "Has he found a queen?"

Lucy and Edmund looked at each other again. Edmund was seriously considering lying.

"When we got there, Lucy asked the same question, and he said 'not one to compare with your sister'..." Beside him, Lucy nodded eagerly, thinking that cutting the story right there might be the best thing to do. Technically, they wouldn't be lying.

But Susan smiled knowingly and said: "Not one that can compare, but he has found one, hasn't he?"

Lucy sighed in defeat, Edmund made a little pout trying to stop himself, but eventually found it impossible not to speak. "We don't know for sure that he married her, but there was someone. Her name was Lilliandil," he explained, "and she was stun-ning!, I mean she was a star so she literally casted this blue glow, like an aura of beauty..." Lucy nudged Edmund on the ribs, seeing as he was getting a little too carried away.

Susan nodded, the smile didn't leave her face but there was moisture in her eyes.

"Seems like Caspian wasn't the only one fond of her..." Peter teased. Edmund blushed deeply, earning a few chuckles, even a small one from Susan.

"You would be fond of her too, had you seen her. She was beautiful." Edmund retorted matter-of-factly, wishing the blush away. He was determined not to let that be teasing material. So he liked her, big deal. Everyone liked her, she was a star.

"And she seemed like a very nice person," Lucy added halfheartedly, for Susan's sake. Lucy liked to believe Susan would find relief in knowing that Caspian had a nice person by his side. And as it was, Susan was delighted. Well, as delighted as 'the love of your life found someone else' gets. But she smiled none-the-less, trusting that, somewhere deep inside, he would always save a place for her.

There was nothing she could do now. She wasn't really in England, anyways, not wholly. She had willingly left her soul with him, and she had expected nothing in return, which was exactly what she was getting.

 

. . . . . . .

 

 

Time took its tool, and Caspian grew old. His forehead gathered creases through the years, his hair turned as white as his wife's, his irises became a smoky black colour and wrinkles surrounded his eyes, while the corners of his lips fell into a constant frown.

Lilliandil, to comfort him, aged too, but Caspian always new she was a shape-shift away from being young again. Still, he thanked her for not leaving him alone in such a frustrating process.

His health was affected too, and there were days when his bones hurt so much he just couldn't find it in himself to get up. He was suffering the consequences of a life filled with adventures but shadowed by sorrow.

The people were worried for their king, as were his family, his friends and his council. They were always trying to make him at ease, and they stressed excessively when he got any common illness. And while he appreciated their worry, he knew he was old and that he probably didn't have much time left, and this didn't faze him.

He had both enough contentment and enough despair for a lifetime, and he was as satisfied as he could; he was fairly at peace with his losses, he had done his best to rule a kingdom and had raised a heir to follow on his steps. He couldn't see what was left for him to do.

So one morning Caspian decided he just wouldn't get up that day. He entertained himself staring out the balcony at the village, or just laying down with his mind completely blank. That night, for the first time in many decades, he fell asleep just as the sun was setting. The next morning he decided to do the same. Rillian and Trumpkin (who was somehow still up and about even though he was older than Caspian) had come and gone during the day, trying to get him to take interest on some very boring royal matters. He insisted on not felling well and wanting to be left alone.

A month went on like this, and Caspian became weaker and weaker.

Everyone had a different opinion on just what was the king's illness, some said it was a flu gotten out of control, some said it was an evil spell casted over him by the White Witch, some said it was because he wasn't eating enough meat. Caspian would shake his head in amusement, and though it bothered him that he was hurting the people closest to him, he was overjoyed that he was finally able to let his body get the rest it needed.

Maids and physicians would visit him a lot, giving him endless foul-tasting potions and herbal beverages. Glenstorm, who wasn't getting any younger either, spent the nights up trying to decipher the king's fate from the constellations. Rillian spent the day by his side, complaining about how unready he was to become king. Everyone was trying to get him to feel better.

Caspian merely humoured them, having already made his choice. He was going to die some day, and he'd rather not wait a lot longer.

 

. . . . . . .

 

 

A year had gone by, after Edmund and Lucy's last adventure, and the four Pevensie 'children' were finally going to spend a summer together again. Their last summer as children, actually.

Peter was 19 and had been going to college for a year, Susan was 17 going on 18 and getting trained to become a nurse, Edmund had barely turned 16 and was finally able to join the army, his sisters and brother had begged him to wait until after the summer. And little Lucy was 15 and trying to get used to being a girly girl, with lots of help from Susan, that is.

Yes, the Pevensie children were not children anymore, but they could leave the world behind for a while and pretend they still were.

Professor Kirke had invited them back to his house in the country, and they couldn't be more eager to lay down in the grass or play rugby, maybe even guess words from the dictionary, anything. They chatted happily in the train, their stories somehow always going back to their time in Narnia. Secretly, Peter, Lucy and Edmund feared the effect that house would have on Susan.

Would she ask them to play hide and seek, so she could hide in the wardrobe? Would she gush about Caspian with the professor? He would certainly want to know everything about their other adventures, and they didn't put it past him to be interested in the epic love story Susan had made of the whole ordeal.

Maybe she would finally break down, when she entered the wardrobe to discover coats instead of a magical land. Maybe Professor Kirke could talk some sense into her. Maybe what she needed was to be reminded that it was all over.

 

. . . . . . .

 

 

Lilliandil had visited him very few times. She would sit by him in the bed and watch him in silence. He watched her back, trying to decipher what was going through her mind. He eventually decided to confess his plans to her.

"I don't have much longer left..."

"I figured." She said coldly. He was taken aback, for she had not once, in so many years of marriage, expressed any negative feelings. "You're not ill, you just don't want to live anymore," she explained. "You may fool them, but you seem to forget I can quite literally see what's in your heart."

Caspian remained silent, suddenly ashamed. "So you've known all this time?" She nodded solemnly, her expression still hard. "Why have you not told them the truth, then?"

"For the same reason you didn't have the courage to tell them. You don't want to be the king who hid himself from the world and went to die alone, not after the legend you have become. You want to be remembered as brave King Caspian the Tenth, the one who died from a strange illness no one ever could understand, you want the many legends that will arise about your mysterious death."

She stared him square in the eye, and he could not bring himself to deny what she was saying. If his life hadn't been the happiest, if he hadn't made the most of every moment, then the only thing he had left was his legacy, not only through his son, but through history. He was indeed a legend, a man every one looked up to; he couldn't stain that with a pathetic, self-imposed death.

"And if that's your wish, it shall be mine too." With that, she stood and made her way to the door.

"I'm sorry" he called after her. She stopped and turned to him, some hurt finally showing in her light eyes.

"Truth to be told, I'm not doing this for you," she whispered lowly, her voice wavered a little. Caspian had never seen her express this kind of emotions, he couldn't even recall ever seeing her frown. "I'm doing this for Rillian, do you have any idea what it would do to him if he knew your intentions?" Now she was showing him a subtle anger, and with just the fierce look in her eyes she was managing to sound threatening. "Did you think of him when you decided it was time to let yourself die?" she reproached.

And even in her turmoil, she was ever-so-graceful, ever-so-regal. Caspian was speechless, ashamed beyond apologies for his selfish ways, and amazed beyond words by her fierceness. After she understood that he wasn't going to reply, she took a calming breath and without another word left the room.

Caspian stared after her, for the first time realizing that maybe he did love that woman after all.

 

. . . . . . .

 

 

Edmund had been sleeping profoundly, being physically drained from the wonderful days they had had. For the first time in so long, they had been a family again, and for the first time in an even longer time, his dreams didn't take place in Narnia, but in the backyard of Professor Kirke's house.

It was slightly bittersweet, for it was their last night there. The next morning they would be driven to the abandoned 'station' –which by now was just a platform and a white wall- to wait for the train that would take them back to London.

He was awoken by the ghost of a strange sound, one he wasn't sure he had heard before.

Dwelling on whether to wake Peter up, he paced around the room, trying to make out the source of the faint wailing. It took him a while to put two and two together. Grabbing the candle in his nightstand, he tiptoed around the halls of house, having forgotten exactly in which room the wardrobe was. Anyway, he was guided by the sound.

As he turned on the knob, there was a gasp, and the sobbing was trying (and failing) to be controlled.

He found her sitting inside the open wardrobe, her knees up to her chest and one of the coats was wrapped around her frame.

"Sue..." he whispered. She looked at him pleadingly, though he wasn't sure what exactly she was pleading for. A way back to Narnia? That wasn't anywhere near being within his power. Some privacy? That seemed more like it, she wasn't one to take comfort on provoking pity. Or maybe she was pleading for a shoulder to cry on. That, he most certainly could provide.

Closing the door after himself, he placed the candle in the center of the room and approached her. She hid her tear-stained face in her legs and waited for him to put his arms around her, and when he did, the waterworks began all over again.

 

. . . . . . .

 

 

The day – or more acutely, the night – came in which Caspian asked his family and most loyal friend, Trumpkin, to gather in his chamber, for he thought he might not live see another day.

He had a rather strange request to make.

"Help me stand up, Rillian, I want to go to my old room."

Complaints arose about how dusty and unventilated that place was, but Caspian insisted. Then he was asked to wait while a few maids tidied up a little, and a little fire came back to his eyes as he ordered that nothing was touched, moved or cleaned.

Balancing most of his weight on Rillian, and with Trumpkin trailing behind loyally, Caspian made his tortuous way back to the only place worth seeing one last time.

Indeed, the air was thick with 30 years of gathered dust, as well as every surface of the room. Everyone coughed and batted their hands in front of themselves to clear the atmosphere. All but Caspian. He took in big lungfuls of the contaminated air, finding in there a scent no body else could ever recognize.

He was helped onto the bed, and he laid his head against the pillows with a sigh. Memories were instantly unlocked, and he felt his heart sting again. Now though, after years of feeling nothing, the pain was very much welcome.

"Father?" Rillian whispered. Caspian hadn't moved in a long time and they were fearing for the worst.

"I'm here" Caspian answered, a little smile making it's way to his chapped lips. Rillian nodded, going to seat by his side. None of them would ever understand how much he desired a moment to be alone with his memories, but Caspian couldn't find it in himself to send them away. This was hurting them a lot already, and not allowing them to be with him in his last hours would be just plain cruel.

"Where's your mother?" he asked after a while, true curiousity showing in his rough voice.

"In the tower," Rillian said gloomily.

"Send for her."

Rillian nodded and just when he was about to ask, Trumpkin nodded and made his way out wordlessly. Caspian chuckled and shook his head in amusement.

"Father, why was this room locked up?"

Now that was the question Caspian was fearing.

"This was my chamber when I was still a prince."

"Everyone knows that..." Rillian muttered, looking around for some clues as to what made this place so meaningful. "Is that..." he trailed off, pointing toward the sword that was lying carelessly on the floor, just beside the opposite side of the bed. He stood and went around to lift it, then he unsheathed it and gasped. "The High King's sword?"

Caspian sighed again, nodding. "Rhindon. High King Peter gave it to me, but I never felt entitled to claim it as mine." Rillian just stared down at the shiny weapon, marveling at its beauty. "I've been keeping it for him, for the day in which he returns. And now, it is yours to keep. You might do as you wish with it, after all, King Peter always wanted me to put it to good use."

Rillian was simply speechless. "I thought it was all a myth..." was all he was able to say. There was a solemn silence as Caspian waited for the weight of the responsibility to settle in, he still remembered how difficult it was to accept that he had to rule a kingdom. "Father, I don't want to be king just yet..."

"I'm sorry, Rillian, but if it serves as comfort, I was ten years younger than you when I had to step up to the throne." Caspian was trying to be lighthearted about the whole situation, he didn't see why people had to be sad he was going to die, they all knew it had to happen one day.

Rillian kept nodding, trying to prove himself strong in front of his father.

"What else have you kept in this room?"

Caspian hesitated, his eyes slipping to the drawer in the nightstand beside his bed.

"There is something most especial, and I think it might be time for you to have it."

Rillian couldn't believe his eyes, as they were presented with the ivory horn.

"Queen S-"

"Yes" Caspian hurried to interrupt. It was alright to reminisce, but he wasn't yet sure he could stand hearing her name again. "You may have it, but I must advert you that there is no use in blowing it. It will not bring the Monarchs of Old back, not for a second time. I guess I already used up that one call." He tried to chuckle but his chest was growing heavier and heavier by the minute.

Lilliandil entered then, looking serious and collected. Her glow chased away the darkness, and suddenly Caspian was able to see every inch of the room.

It was almost too much for his old, tired heart.

He started breathing rapidly, feeling a little faint. Trumpkin was just about to call for the doctor, but Caspian insisted that it was too late, that it was time to let nature take its course. Trumpkin had been quiet, feeling slightly out of place. He, being the closest to the king, had been the one less allowed to mention the Kings and Queens of Old, and Caspian felt somewhat guilty, for he knew the dwarf too missed a particular one of them.

"Dear Little Friend, I think it was, right?" Caspian spoke towards him, earning confused glances from his wife and son, but a bittersweet smile from his friend.

"DLF" he whispered, his green eyes gleaming like they hadn't in decades. Caspian smiled too.

"Trumpkin, I have a dying wish." At the mention of the word 'dying', Rillian bit his lips and straightened up, Lilliandil closed her eyes and gave a quiet sigh, and Trumpkin nodded solemnly, gesturing for the king to continue. "I want you to restore Cair Paravel" Caspian said, and Trumpkin tried to hide a gasp of surprise. "I want you to remind Narnia of their past, of their Golden Age. I didn't want to be another Telmarine King suppressing the tales and culture of the narnians but I ended up betraying my own convictions. Please, guide Rillian into doing what I was too much of a coward to do..."

Trumpkin found he had a lot of things he could say, he mainly wanted to say how unforgiving and cruel Caspian was being to himself, and that he had been the best king they had had in 1300 years. But the man was dying, and Trumpkin understood that he wasn't about to change his mind now. So Trumpkin nodded yet again, words failing him to express the gratitude he felt.

Laying back down, Caspian closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to imagine Cair Paravel standing by the ocean in all its majesty.

Silently, Trumpkin made his way out, figuring that the whole 'dying wish' issue was Caspian's way of saying goodbye to him. It was now time to leave him alone with his family.

By now, Rillian could barely hold in his tears.

"Do cry if that's what you need to do, son." Caspian whispered, slowly opening his eyes. "I've learned that keeping things to yourself is far more hurtful," and as he said this, his eyes moved to Lilliandil.

She was determined not to shed a single tear over him, and Caspian appreciated her for it. "Lilliandil... When I..."

"There's no need for that, dear. I can see what's in your heart, remember?" She finally smiled a little, and he figured she could see just how much he truly loved her, even if not in the traditional way a husband loves his wife. Caspian smiled back at her, feeling as though he was more connected to her than ever.

The door swinged open and the sound of paws in hardwood floor filled the space.

Caspian's smile grew even wider, and so did Lilliandil's, as Aslan bowed to them and made his way to Caspian's bedside

 

 

 

 


	3. having faith goes a long way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware i made a mistake somewhere in this chapter (was it the dates?) and got corrected but i can't remember what it was? so if you spot it i'll be eternally grateful if you tell me what it is.

The passing country side was somewhat reassuring. Susan sat by the window, her head leaned against Edmund's shoulder, her eyes narrowed. Everyone had the delicacy not to say anything about how bloodshot they were.

The Pevensie children hardly spoke during the trip, admitting only to themselves that maybe, it was possible for them to have spent too much time together. It was the second time they grew up, but instead of growing closer they were growing apart.

And it was all because of one particular issue.

Back in the Golden Age, Peter and Edmund had made it a hobby to chase away their sister's suitors, and it was quite a hilarious spectacle for Susan and Lucy. Now, in the 1930s, if a boy stared at Lucy and Peter or Edmund glared at him, Lucy would pout and give them the cold shoulder for at least a week.

In the Golden Age, if Peter or Edmund fancied a girl (which didn't happen too often), Lucy and Susan would tease them to no end, knowing neither of them would have the courage to ask their hand in marriage. In the 1930s, if Peter or Edmund fancied a girl, Lucy and Susan needed to have an audience with her as soon as possible in order to determine whether she'd make a good wife or not.

No girl had met their standards to date, and it got them involved in quite a few arguments, with the boys protesting about how they were free to like whichever girl they wanted to like, and then Lucy retorting that she would stop judging their girlfriends when they let her be fancied by a boy.

No good ever came out of those arguments, and they were starting to put a strain in their relationship.

Susan, who for the most part stayed out of it, watched helplessly and wondered what had gone wrong. They had done this the right way once, why couldn't they repeat the process without destroying their bonds? She guessed it was England's fault. Their convivial always seemed to be messed up in this world.

One more reason to miss Narnia.

"When we get back, I'm locking you inside your room so you don't join the army," Susan whispered to Edmund.

"I'll be more than happy to help you with that," Peter answered. Edmund rolled his eyes, leaning his head back to try and get some sleep.

"Think of it this way, Ed: Susan and Peter are out for most of the day, do you really want me to stay alone in the house? What if I meet a boy? Who will keep him from sneaking into my room at night?"

"Lucy!" Peter scolded. She was becoming a little too liberal for his liking.

"What you don't know, dear sister, is that before I leave, I'm going to make sure every boy in town knows what will happen to them if they come near you."

"And I'll be more than happy to help you with that," Peter repeated.

It was Lucy's turn to roll her eyes. She liked it better when Susan was the overprotected one. Too bad she no longer had anyone to be "protected" from.

Susan, from her place under Edmund's arm, smiled. They might be moving on with their lives as young adults, but they would always be there for each other, no matter how infuriating any of them could be. Peter had a lop-sided smirk of satisfaction on his face as he brought an arm around Lucy's shoulder, and without relinquishing her pout, Lucy leaned into him.

In that moment, Susan knew they would be alright, for some things never changed.

 

. . . . . . .

 

 

"Hello, your majesties." The great Lion bowed his head low, his honey eyes revealing all the compassion he felt for Prince Rillian, who would be the most distraught by this unfortunate situation. His gaze then fell on Lilliandil, who had been silently marveling at His magnificence.

"I lament that it is under despairing circumstances that we meet again." Caspian smiled to himself, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He should really be more sensitive, this was a very sad occasion for everyone else, but he couldn't really be sad, he had been longing for the peace this would bring him. If only his dear ones could understand that, perhaps they wouldn't see it as a tragedy, but as a moment to be celebrated. "But I'm afraid it is time to say your goodbyes. I am here to take Caspian to a better place."

Rillian launched forwards and hugged his father as tightly as he could without crushing his bones. Caspian chuckled and patted his back affectionately; When Rillian released him, Lilliandil went to his side and took his hand in both of hers.

"I'd like to see you young again," Caspian said and Lilliandil smiled, closing her eyes. Her skin rejuvenated, her hair became golden again and the wrinkles around her eyes vanished. You could tell apart every little stage of the process, and it was like watching time being turned back. Caspian beamed at the sight, feeling himself grow younger as well. "Be happy..." he whispered, squeezing her hand with all the strength left in his old body.

They abandoned the room, and Caspian felt the smallest déjà vu as his hand stretched out toward them. A sudden wave of sadness overtook him, and he understood that even if his death would mean having some much craved peace of mind, he wasn't exactly content with the concept of not seeing his wife and son again.

"We all will end up in the same place," Aslan whispered, seemingly reading his thoughts. His perceptiveness was something Caspian had grown used to.

"I wouldn't like to get my hopes up, but are you here to take me to your country?"

"No, Caspian, an even better place awaits you."

Caspian frowned. "I'm not sure I can imagine a better place than your country."

"The years have strained your ability to hope for what your heart truly desires, Caspian, and I am most saddened by this. However, whether you can imagine it or not does not change your destination." Aslan explained, and after getting only a clueless look for response, He continued. "You are not going to die today, Caspian."

Caspian couldn't tell whether he felt relieved or afflicted or just plainly annoyed by this knowledge. For the millionth time in the span of a month he asked himself: What else is there left for me to do?. "Then where am I going?" he said carefully, his voice weaker than a mouse's, his spirit crushed once again.

"I think it is most obvious, my boy," Aslan smiled, some amusement fighting it's way into his eyes.

"I stopped being a boy a very long time ago..." Caspian whispered with a pang of bitterness. Aslan brushed it off, knowing full well this side of the King was being brought out by a momentary deception, one that He was about to fix.

"You had a mission in this world, and you have successfully fulfilled it. You have restored the peace amongst Narnia and you have raised a great young man to continue your work. Now," he made what could be referred to as a dramatic pause, walking painfully slow towards the worn out king and nudging his arm with His nose, urging him to stand. "You are needed somewhere else."

Caspian nodded, biting his lips to keep himself from complaining. He couldn't start whining about his prolonged future, that would be utterly childish from a 57-year-old man. He straightened up and pushed himself off the bed, which was no easy task, for his weak legs always threatened to buckle. "Where am I needed? What am I needed for?" he simply asked, swallowing back the slight rage that had begun to gather inside him.

"You will not save a kingdom, and you will not defeat an evil force, if that is what you are fearing." Aslan waited until Caspian's footing was stable and motioned for him to follow. "You are needed for a far nobler purpose where you are going."

This brought Caspian no reassurance at all. "And that purpose would be?"

"Loving somebody."

At this, Caspian stopped short (not that he'd been walking that fast anyways), feeling the slight pang of what moments ago he would've hoped to be a heart attack. Ironically enough, he now silently prayed to the great Lion standing beside him that he wouldn't die after all. Aslan stared at him patiently, kindly, waiting for the weight of the news to settle.

Caspian didn't need to ask what he meant, or who he meant. However, he did need to ask why.

"I thought..."

"That she wasn't meant to be yours?"

He nodded, somewhat ashamed, because after all, he was a married man, and it couldn't be a good thing to not only love, but physically desire, a woman who wasn't his wife. Caspian wondered briefly, without ever letting the actual memories wring his heart, whether or not Aslan knew of what had happened so many years ago in that same room.

Caspian hoped he was too old to blush.

"In this life, in this world, she wasn't." Aslan admitted, and the admission sounded somewhat like an apology, for the many years of despair this fate had caused the poor man in front of Him. "But, just as she had a lot to learn from this world, you have a lot to learn from hers." Caspian just looked at Him through watery eyes, conveying all the gratitude he couldn't capture in words.

"I don't deserve this" was all he could utter. Aslan chuckled.

"Oh, that you do, Caspian. You have lived your life for others, for your people, for your responsibilities, never once making a choice that was truly meant to make you happy. It is now high time for you to live a life for yourself, for your convictions, for your desires."

Caspian was breathing fast, and he felt a little faint, and just then he remembered the crumpled state of his body.

"But I am too old, and honestly, too tired. Besides, I can't have that much left..." Aslan shook his head, his mane flowing graciously without Him even noticing.

"No, you shall return to her the same age you were when she left this world, for we both know your own life and youth followed right after her."

This was all too much for him. He wasn't sure he could stomach it, the sudden wave of hope, the overwhelming joy streaming from hell-knows-where within him. The emotions where too strong, and they were draining him, but in a good way.

Staggeringly, Caspian was led by Aslan to (quite meaningfully) the southern wall of the room, and once he stood mere inches away, facing it, Aslan said in that strong but strangely calming voice of his: "All you have to do now is say her name."

His eyelids fell shut, his tongue tying in refusal. He feared the pain those two syllables would bring. But it was a lot easier than he thought, his heart had been begging for permission for over 30 years, and as he exhaled, her name mingled effortlessly with the rush of air. "Susan." It was so soft and faint, barely above a lonely whisper.

But his breath -having acquired a smoke-like quality- washed over the stone wall, sliding through the spaces between the bricks like some type of silvery paint, forming the outline of an oval that reached the floor. Caspian watched, amazed like he hadn't been in so long, as he was presented with a sight he never in his wildest dreams could've imagined.

"You must remember that this place is unlike anything you have ever seen. Do not take any course of action, just wait. They will meet you there."

Caspian felt himself nod, unable to take his eyes off that strange place across the wall, fearing it might disappear if he turned away.

"Good luck, Caspian, may you have a splendid lifetime in your new home."

Home. He was finally going home.

With that most joyous thought, he stepped through the portal without glancing back.

The Lion watched silently as the wall recovered its brick pattern, then he stepped out to the balcony and roared, letting the kingdom know that their king was gone.

 

. . . . . . .

 

 

After giving it a lot of thought, and exploring the place as much as he could without wondering too far from where the portal had been, Caspian came to the conclusion that the place had to be some sort of cave.

And giving it some more thought, he figured it was much too perfectly carved to be a natural cave.

Caspian sat on a bench beside the long gone portal and remembered Aslan's instruction. He was supposed to wait.

The cave was lighted by little torches concealed inside tiny glass spheres, hanging upside-down from the ceiling. The light they shed was white and brilliant like a cloudless midday sky, leaving him to wonder what time of day it was outside. Behind him, the yellow wall read the word "Strand" in dark blue letters, he had no clue as to what such a simple word was doing in this majestic cave, but he figured it had to be important since it occupied a great deal of space.

In front of him, there was a ditch, more than half the width of the cave, and down the ditch he could see some metal straps.

Heaving a sigh, he brought his hand to rub his face. It was then that he noticed how smooth his skin was, and after examining his wrinkle-free hands for a moment he remembered that he was indeed supposed to be younger. He felt silly, being so disoriented by things he already knew to expect. He could only wonder how much of a fool he would make of himself trying to adapt to this place.

The fabric around his wrists caught his attention, and for the first time, he took a look at his attire. He was wearing a very strange shirt that practically choked him, with cuffs that didn't leave much movement to his arms and an even stranger vest made of an itchy fabric. This made him realize that the temperature was much colder than it had been in Narnia, and that the vest, though slightly ridiculous, was quite useful. He too felt strange in the long trousers he was wearing, and the strange boots that didn't even reach his ankle.

Underneath the mutilated boots, a most fascinating fabric covered his feet, keeping them from the cold that the rest of the shoe was doing nothing about.

Caspian marveled at the loneliness of his surroundings, finding relief in seeing proof that the place wasn't actually abandoned, just currently empty. He waited for what seemed like ages, and somehow, he was patient and collected the whole time. He had found his faith in Aslan again.

Eventually, a new sound disturbed the perfect silence, and a light adverted Caspian that the ditch kept going long after the cave ended. The ear-piercing noise neared and Caspian rose from his seat, his hand instinctively going to his waist, where his sword was supposed to be. But of course, he should've known he wouldn't have a sword in this world, after all, even Peter had had to leave his behind.

Out of the darkness came the most terrifying creature Caspian had ever seen: an enormous, thick, never-ending snake made of metal.

It came to a full stop once inside the cave, and Caspian took several steps back, unsure of whether the creature was readying to attack him. But then the side of the snake, quite bizarrely, opened, and out of the strange mouths came people, who didn't seem at all distressed to have been trapped inside a hideous monster.

Caspian stood in there in shock, trying to go unnoticed just in case these people weren't good intentioned, and slightly fearing someone might force him inside that... thing.

The former prisoners streamed out, most walking straight towards a set of stairs that, Caspian assumed, were the way out, some of them lingered, giving him weird looks, but eventually the crowd dissipated and Caspian was left alone in the cave again.

"Will you please hurry? I want to go home!" came a soft whining from within the now quiescent snake.

"You were the one who wanted to wait for everyone to get off," was the response.

"Because I don't like the crowd," explained the first voice.

Caspian smiled. He knew those voices. His breathing sped up again and he brushed his slightly sweaty hands against the fabric of his trousers. It had been so long since his hands had sweated in nervousness.

"Quit bickering, it's too bloody late and I'm tired, we'll get home when we have to get home," the blond king of Narnia scolded, stepping out of the creature and into the cave, two suitcases in each hand. He was much taller than Caspian remembered.

Behind him, Edmund the Just stuck his tongue out at Lucy the Valiant, and Lucy the Valiant crossed her arms around her chest.

Caspian felt himself in the brim of tears.

"Edmund, instead of getting on our sister's nerves you should be-" Peter stopped abruptly, his eyes finally landing on Caspian, who couldn't be more than six feet away from him. The suitcases fell from his grip, two of them also falling open and spilling their contents all over the floor. Peter didn't notice. Edmund and Lucy teased him, kneeling to collect their belongings and stuffing them back into the suitcases. That was until they decided to look over at what Peter was staring at, and they too were frozen.

There was pregnant silence, none of the royals showing a reaction.

"What are you doing there standing in the middle of the station? Get moving!"

Caspian's heart gave leap, then picked up with a rhythm so fast he though it might gallop right out of his chest.

Lucy turned her head to her sister, expectantly. Susan caught this look but didn't know what to make of it, since her brothers were blocking the view. Lucy laid her hand on Peter's arm, and when she got his attention she nodded her head to the side, towards Susan. Peter returned his gaze to Caspian as he stepped aside.

There she stood, in all her glory. The girl he had known not to miss, not to love, and yet he had loved her so. She was just as he remembered her, if not embellished by how real she was, by the fact that she was actually there, just a few steps away from him. He had been wondering whether he would still love her, after so long a time, after so painful an absence. He had almost feared he would feel empty, indifferent, bitter even.

But he felt it all over again. That sick adoration for every aspect of her being.

He felt it, in fact, a little too much. His head was swimming and his knees threatened to give out under him. Edmund noticed he was shaking, and instinctively took a step closer in case Caspian collapsed on the floor.

Meanwhile, Susan stared back, strangely calm. Some part of her reckoned that she was supposed to be surprised, but somehow, she always knew deep within her soul that this moment would come, she might've lost faith a few times, but she always recovered. And now that it was actually happening, she was just so relieved, that she contented herself with staring at him. Her Caspian, just the one she remembered.

"What are you doing here?" Peter finally asked, it came out a little rough and made it sound like his presence was undesired, but Caspian didn't seem to be listening. In fact, he didn't seem to be there at all.

"Aslan must've sent him!" Lucy whispered, still awestruck, and Edmund nodded. Peter wasn't listening either. He was more engrossed by the growing tension between his sister and the Telmarine.

"Caspian, how did you get here? Is everything alright in Narnia?" The shock was starting to wear off, and Edmund was starting to feel gleeful. He had often found himself praying for Aslan to give them another chance to go back, all of them, partially because he couldn't stand the way Susan missed him, but even if Susan hadn't been involved, Edmund would've still missed Caspian greatly. Over the time they spent together in The Dawn Treader, he had become his best friend, and even though he'd never voice it, he felt Caspian to be more of a brother to him than Peter.

Right now, though, his best friend wasn't acknowledging his presence. Ok, I get that he missed her more than any of us, but this is just ridiculous. Edmund thought to himself.

"Caspian?" Lucy insisted, stepping closer to him and pulling at his arm. Caspian stayed put, not even casting her a side glance. "Sue?" No response out of her either.

"Ok, here's what we're going to do:" Peter sighed, resuming his leader instincts. "We'll ask you a question, you shake your head if the answer is no, you nod if the answer is yes. Is that clear enough?"

Surprisingly, they got a nod out of him. Well, a half nod that would've gone unnoticed had they not been looking for it.

"Is there war in Narnia?"

Caspian shook his head. Again, so slightly that if they'd blinked, they would've missed it.

"Is there a danger in our own world you're here to warn us about."

Another shake.

These questions were useless, Lucy thought, deciding to step in. "Are you here to stay?" she asked hopefully. The beginnings of a smile showed in his lips as he nodded a little more intently. Susan's eyes lighted up and she stepped forward, making Caspian take a sharp breath in, his whole body leaning towards her.

The three remaining siblings watched expectantly, hoping they would just get it over and done with.

The couple-to-be didn't make any other moves, neither of them was ready to. Neither could believe the other one was there, and they both wanted to savour the sweetness of this moment, to prolong it for as long as possible.

"But what are we going to do with him? We can't just leave him here!" The siblings bickered.

"Says who?" Peter muttered under his breath. Edmund rolled his eyes.

"We can sneak him into the house!" Lucy chirped, jumping a little at the excitement the idea of a secret operation brought her.

Edmund and Peter, though, seeing the look on both Caspian and Susan's faces, had to shake their heads vigorously. They were not having him in the same house as their sister. Especially not overnight.

"Oh, come on! Don't be like that! He can stay in your room, you can even lock up the door or stay up all night, I'm sure Caspian isn't so desperate to-"

"Lucy, don't you dare finish that sentence!" Peter growled.

"Ok, I won't say it, but you got the message. You should really give Caspian some of your trust."

Peter and Edmund didn't have time to consider the wisdom in their sister's words, for in that moment, the subject of the conversation -who had been standing motionlessly in front of their other sister for what seemed like an eternity- snapped out of his trance and, taking two big strides forward, crashed his lips against Susan's, his arms instantly finding the dents in her body where they belonged. Susan's own arms were thrown around him too, her hands threading through his hair expertly.

It was a good thing the train station was deserted, it wasn't a view meant for public display.

Edmund made involuntary gagging sounds in the back of his throat, while Peter's face grew red with anger and his hands balled into fists. Lucy limited herself to smiling a huge smile and crossing her arms over her chest in approval.

Peter cleared his throat and made his decision. Caspian was not staying with them.

The sound brought them back to reality, well... enough at least to stop kissing. But other than that, they were just so completely immersed in one another.

His hand rested at her waist, while he slowly, hesitant that she might disappear, caressed the soft skin of her cheek with the other one. Susan's face scrunched up in utter delight, her eyes shut tightly as a few tears ran down her face. Caspian wiped them with his rough thumb, but they kept coming. This caused Caspian's heart to shatter, even though he knew she wasn't weeping out of sadness, but joy. He could feel tears of his own prickle in his eyes as he leaned in and kissed every inch of her face.

Susan sobbed, and he had to use all his will power not to do so too.

Peter, Edmund and Lucy were beyond trying to comprehend the scene, and contented themselves with looking around awkwardly until the reunion was done.

It took nearly a half an hour, during which Susan stood tightly enveloped in Caspian's arms, for Peter to clear his throat again and bring them back to reality.

"We know you missed each other, but really, guys, it's 9:30, we have to get home." Strangely, he didn't sound angry nor demanding, he just sounded awkward. And shy. Very, very shy.

Susan bit her lips to avoid smiling, but it didn't really work. Caspian reluctantly pulled away from her, and spoke his first words.

"I'm sorry" he said lamely, involuntarily sniffing and wiping his eyes. He looked quite pathetic, with his eyes bloodshot and his hair disheveled, but he looked happy.

"That's alright," Edmund replied, "But now that you're done sucking my sister's face, don't you think you owe us a hug too?" Susan went redder than they'd seen her in a long time, and Caspian pressed his lips together not to start crying again.

God, he had missed them so much... Their teasing, their bickering, their closeness.

He silently spread his arms and crushed his best friend into a tight hug, which was eagerly returned. Lucy joined in by hugging Caspian's side, and he draped an arm around her too, burying his face in her shoulder to wipe off some of the returning moisture in his eyes, knowing full well she would keep it as their secret. "Thank you" he whispered before pulling away.

The next in line was Peter, who was holding his hand out for him to shake. There was never any real closeness between them, the little time they spent together they spent it arguing, and going at each other's throats. Peter really couldn't ask for the same warm meeting his siblings were getting.

Caspian, however, had different plans. Rejecting the offered hand, Caspian hugged Peter, which was a shocker for most.

In Caspian's book, there was nothing to forgive. Peter was just being the great King, leader, but most importantly, big brother that he was, and Caspian respected him for it. And since he would be spending another lifetime with them, they might as well start getting along.

Peter was stunned, but hugged him back. Not for long, of course, it got awkward after the first ten seconds.

After the other members of his family (and his heart had yet to stop skipping a beat at the thought) were properly greeted, he couldn't help walking back to Susan and slipping his hand into hers. She smiled up at him, for some reason still frowning a little.

"I lo-" he was about to confess, before being cut off by Edmund.

"Ok, ok, we've seen enough, let's just go home, you two can resume your happy reunion later."

Peter's expression was priceless. "I think what Edmund meant to say was tomorrow, when you see each other again."

Susan blushed madly again, not having taken Edmund's sentence that way.

"Peter, please relax, that vein in your forehead might pop any second now. Nobody thought of it that way, you should really stop thinking about Susan and Caspian having sex all the time." The collective, uncomfortable coughing commenced immediately. When had Lucy's comments become so blunt? "What? I mean, we all know it's going to happen some day-"

"Lucy!" Susan and Peter yelled. Caspian just looked around awkwardly, trying not to let his blush give away the truth.

"Peter, Lucy, you're both exaggerating. Caspian just came back... or for the first time... whatever, the point is, he just got here. We have plenty of time to worry about his future with our sister. Let's just go home and interrogate him about Narnia."

"I agree with Edmund." Caspian said, desperate to draw the attention away from that subject.

"What makes you think you're coming with us?" Peter snapped. He really didn't mean to, he wanted to become friends with Caspian, truly, but the tension from the previous argument and his overall tiredness were interfering with his objectivity.

"Oh, quit it, Peter, of course he's coming with us," Lucy said, taking Caspian's free hand and leading him (and consequently Susan) to the exit of the station, and into a whole new adventure.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an idea for a sequel (???) y'know about Caspian adapting to the "modern world" and stuff, and i had the cutest proposal planned out (but i'm not sure i remember it anymore??) and i never got around to writing it, but well... if anyone's interested i could give it a try...


End file.
